Love of a Beast
by eva
Summary: My version of the beautiful fairy tale "Beauty and the Beast".


Title: Love of a Beast (adapted by eva)  
Author: eva  
Email: lllwickedchildlll@yahoo.com  
Summary: My version of the beautiful fairy tale "Beauty and the Beast".  
Note: I'm not sure how people spoke back then but I did my best. This is a cross between the  
Disney movie and the original tale. Hopefully, I don't put Beauty and the Beast to shame.   
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of WB, FOX, Mutant Enemy, and Joss...  
I think. Beauty and the Beast belongs to whoever wrote it...   
Feedback: What author doesn't enjoy feedback?  
  
  
  
Part One  
  
It was nothing short of a beautiful day. The trees towered overhead reaching majestically for the  
heavens. Soft yellow sunlight filtered through the tree branches and gave the clearing an  
ethereal glow. Grass, lush and green, were tickling my neck, not unpleasantly, and were probably  
gathering in my hair. But it didn't matter. I was floating in my own piece of heaven, and here,  
things like Riley Finn rarely mattered. Riley was becoming more and more annoying each day.  
Half the village girls throwing themselves at his feet, swooning and giggling over his handsome  
face, and he had to pick me as the girl of his dreams. That conceited, pompous... Sure he was  
handsome but his personality was terrible. Here, I can forget about Riley and his fruitless  
chasing. I could stay in my clearing forever and ever.   
  
"Buffy! Buffy Summers, come and help your poor mother right this minute!" Damn. Forever is  
much too short. I stood and gathered my skirts hurriedly, running towards my mother's voice,  
suddenly remembering what day it was. I could hear her impatience a mile away. Joyce  
Summers was not a woman to keep waiting for long.   
  
I found her in front of our cottage, carrying a large painting covered with a brown cloth, struggling  
to get it in our carriage. I stood there for a moment, watching her fumble, and still a little  
breathless, I ran to help her. With one final heave, the stubborn painting was tucked safely into  
the back of our carriage. My mother rested her arm on Darling's flank, other hand on her chest  
and breathing hard. The wrinkles lining her lovely face seemed more defined somehow. I  
suddenly remembered the last time she came home from her trips; her leg had been severely  
sprained because she had fallen trying to keep a painting from falling from the carriage. She had  
laughed at her own clumsiness, but that was when I realized more than ever how old she was,  
how frail she will be. My father used to make the trips and shipments but ever since he died...   
  
Today was my last day to try and get her to stay at home.   
  
"Mother. I don't know why you don't let Xander deliver the painting. He offered to do it without  
payment." The sun beat down on our backs and faces, and my mother's blonde and silver curls  
(her hair, according to Joyce Summers, had been the cause of much envy in her younger days)  
shone as she shook her head. She dusted at her long, blue skirt with her calloused hands; though  
it looked as clean as it did earlier.   
  
"Have you forgotten? Anya had a child a few days ago. He's a nice boy but I doubt he really  
wants to leave his wife and newborn baby girl."   
  
"Then let me do it." She smiled at me and plucked a stem of grass from my hair in the endearing  
way only mothers can.   
  
"Are you implying, child, that I am far too old to make this trip?" A warm flush crept into my  
cheeks and the light in her blue eyes danced. "Buffy. I assure you, I can take care of myself. You  
stay here and take care of the house. I'll be back before you know it. Have dinner ready when I  
get back. Oh, and remember to hang up the wash. Wouldn't want your best dress to shrink."   
  
That's my mother. Always efficient. She gave my cheek a peck with her dry lips and pulled  
herself on top of Darling, our faithful horse. He was large and loving, if not a bit slow. I patted his  
head and produced a carrot from my pocket, feeding him but really thinking about my mother.  
This was absolutely the last time she was going to ship paintings. Next time, I'll do it.   
  
Mother pulled on the reigns and Darling began trotting at his usual pace. My mother always  
spoke of selling him and buying a younger horse but she didn't have the heart to do it. That's how  
she is. "Remember the wash!" she yelled over her shoulder and waved to me once before  
turning her attention to the dusty road.   
  
"I won't foget, mother!" I yelled back. It wasn't until she disappeared over the horizon, back  
straight and hair shining, that I felt a chill crawl down my spine.   
  



End file.
